Cherimon Sleep Tight My Drunken Friend
by mymusicaldream
Summary: A mild Cherimon story. Alex/nerimon comes home drunk and Charlie/charlieissocoollike takes care of him the entire night. Alex reveals some heartbreaking secrets of his own, and is forced to face them, alongside the boy he secretly loves. Can he recover from the damage that it does? TRIGGER WARNING: contains violence and self-injury.
1. Chapter 1

It was stupidly early o'clock as I fumbled around outside of my front door, looking for my keys. I'd decided to go home early and leave Alex and all the others at the party, something I was kind of regretting considering Alex would probably have to come home alone, and knowing him anywhere near alcohol, drunk. I found them in my back pocket of my "flashy" jeans from the American Apparel goodie bag and silently kicked myself for not looking there before taking my jacket off to look deeper in the pockets outside in the Antarctic conditions.

I stood in the kitchen filled with silence apart from the bubbling kettle, almost ready to use to make the godly beverage that is tea, when Alex stumbled into the house, alone as I'd expected. I was going to have to inspect him for bruises and cuts where he might have fallen over, like the last few times.

"Heeeyyyy, charlieberrrg" he said loudly, and I smiled at the nickname.

"Hey Alex, can I trust you to be able to sip some tea without spilling it all over yourself?" I asked. "Whaaa?" he replied, and with a confused look on his face.

I chuckled, assumed that was a no, and continued with my tea making business. He flopped onto the sofa, one leg hanging off and one falling over the top with his arms lying lazily next to his sides. He groaned.

"Who ever's hammering, make them stop Charlie, it's bloody sore!".

I felt quite sorry for him. If he had a headache coming on already then he was in for one hell of a hangover in the morning.

It was too late at night and too early in the morning to play video games or for there to be anything good on TV so I sat on the opposite sofa to Alex's, ate a digestive and drank my tea in my "Troy and Abed in the morning" mug, definitely my favourite one, happy and content, however whilst Alex appeared to be in pain. I put the biscuit and the mug on the arm of the seat and crouched down next to him. His eyes were scrunched up and he was moaning loudly. I took has hand in mines and made him sit up so I could properly examine him for anything physical that could be hurting him, though he would probably have told me already if there was. Still, he was really drunk and found it quite difficult to talk so there was a chance. He had a humongously massive dark mark on his right arm which probably stung quite a bit. I got up again and attempted to put his other arm over my shoulders so I could bring him upstairs to his room. He slumped off of the sofa and attempted to stand up, but nearly fell to the floor. Looked like I'd be carrying him then.

I'd been asleep for about an hour when Alex knocked on my bedroom door.

"Come in!" I shouted sleepily, my eyes still shut.

He crept inside.

"Charlie, do….do you….do you mind if I stay with you tonight? Ple-Please?"

He was crying and he sounded like I do when I cry, when it's hard to breathe and there's a lump the size of Jupiter inside your throat. I opened my eyes wide after rubbing the sleep out of them, but I still couldn't see him properly because it was pitch black inside of my room. Only his silhouette was visible and it was still holding on to the door.

"Of course you can, come 'ere!" I replied sympathetically.

I flung the duvet off of his side when I sat up and I placed a pillow for him too. He shut the door behind him and got in beside me.

"Tha-Thank you" he said to me, and tried to lie down.

"It's no bother mate, none at all. Do you want to tell me what's wrong, or can it wait until the morning if you don't fancy it?".

He gulped and took a breath.

"C-Can it wait?" he asked.

"Of course." I replied.

He lay down properly, still sobbing quietly into the pillow and it felt rubbish, because there was nothing I could do or say to comfort him.

It was only then I remembered that I wasn't wearing a shirt, only pajama bottoms, and it was then that I realized, that Alex usually slept either naked or in his boxers (NOT because I'm a massive best friend stalker or anything, Alex is extremely open in his videos about what he goes to bed in!). I don't exactly know why this didn't bother me, I just knew that it didn't.

I reached out my hand, in search of his, and when I found it I clasped it.

"SHHH, Alex, SHHHH. Everything is fine, I'm here, you're okay, and everything is fine".

He stopped making any noise with his crying, but tears still fell from clenched shut eyes. He moved closer to me and kind of surprised me by laying his head on my bare chest and wrapping his arms around me. I put one of my arms around his back too and stroked his head full of unmanageable hair, nuzzling into it, like he was a giant teddy bear.

"I'm sorry" he whispered.

"You've got no reason to be" I whispered.

He gave out a quiet whimper.

"Char-Charlieberg, I-I freaking love you".

I held him tighter before saying in a trembling voice (because I could also sense the water works were coming)

"I love you to Alex. I love you to, and you better believe it".

He took his arms out from under my back and put one around my shoulders. With his hand he ran it across my chest, whilst still lying on it, and found mines on his head. He brought them down to my side, holding mines tightly. I squeezed back.

This moment was magical, and I really, really hoped he was at least a little bit more sober than he was when he came home, and would still remember this in the morning, where he would wake up next to me in a close embrace.


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up around 6am on top of and holding him, much to my surprise. I squinted up at him from underneath the bed sheets, lying on his shirt-less chest, confused. I de-tangled my body from his and quietly got out of his bed, to find myself only wearing my boxers. My face flushed at the embarrassment and strangeness of it all, why was I half naked in Charlie's bedroom? I grimaced, sucking in air quickly. A sharp pain coming from my stomach felt like I'd just been hit by lightning and I clutched the bottom of the bed. It wasn't enough to support me. I fell to the ground with a thud, instantly waking Charlie. He jumped out, flung the covers halfway across the room and ran to my side.

"Alex! Alex, tell me-tell me you're okay! Please! Alex!" he shouted, and kneeled down beside me, taking hold of my hand and resting my head in his knees.

I forced my eyes open to look into his. He looked so worried, and I was sure I could see his that his eyes were glazed with tears. I smiled and squeezed his hand.

"Yeah. I'm fine….I'll be fine…."

He made me a cup of tea and had tucked me in amongst the duvet and sheets, I was still in his bedroom though, it hurt quite a lot to move. He was downstairs right now, making me some breakfast. He was the perfect friend and the perfect doctor. I still had no idea why I had spent the night with him, the last memory I had was walking home drunk when…..god…I remembered why my stomach hurt so much….

"Feeling any better?" he asked from my side.

I looked up at him, half asleep. I'd nodded off after he'd fed me a bacon sandwich.

"I am, sure, thank you for-thanks-thanks for everything…I appreciate it, I really do" I stammered my way through the sentence.

I couldn't look at him, I was too afraid of bursting into tears, though I was still on the brink of crying any second.

"Yeah well…It's what best friends are for…" he replied.

There was an awkward silence.

"Alex?"

"Yeah?"

I knew he was hesitating.

"I want to know…I want to know why you're covered in scratches and bruises…"

I gulped.

"I dunno. I-uh-I guess I must of fallen down a lot on the way home. Like you said, there was no one with me.."

"I don't know for sure if someone took you home, I just know that you came inside alone. That this isn't the first time it's happened…"

'It is the first, and it was probably an accident down to my drunken clumsiness!"

"No, Alex, it's not. You've been coming home for months after getting drunk, looking like you've been beaten up! I know you can remember what happened, but you have to tell me what happened so I can help you! That's all I want to do Alex! Help you! Let me try, please, you've got to let me try!" his voice broke down nearer the end of the sentence and he was crying.

I took a deep, jagged breath.

"I don't know what happens".

I quickly regretted saying it. I was lying to the boy I secretly loved, though it might not be a secret anymore. I just couldn't remember.

He forced me to face him, but I couldn't look him in the eyes.

"You do, Alex, you do. The only way you'll stop getting hurt is if you tell me the truth".

I sighed. It wouldn't stop me from getting hurt, but how was Charlie to know? I had to tell him.

"Okay."

I shuffled next to him despite the pain, and he rested his head on my shoulder. It felt perfect.

"Charlie, I'm gay. I'm gay and because of this I've been getting abuse from some other guys, though I don't know who they are, and they don't know me. I try to drink my sorrows away because I love someone, someone we both know very, very well but it doesn't work. I usually accidentally meet them on the way back home when I'm drunk, and they hit me. Hard. And it hurts. Just because of my sexuality. I don't even know how they found out, but they did, and it happens every time we cross paths. I fought back at first, but that's when they would seriously beat me up, and then leave me to die. At least now if I don't struggle, and I'm drunk, it doesn't hurt that much. I've been having nightmares about the encounters. I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry that I lied to you. But telling you would just hurt you and nothing would be different. I'm sorry"

He hugged me lightly, though he was noticeably shaking and silently crying his eyes out. He sniffed.

"EVERYTHING will be different," he said "I promise you".

That's when I started to weep like a child being yelled at too.


	3. Chapter 3

Oh no, he was crying now too. I'd made it worse than it had to be, and he was just trying to protect me from getting emotionally hurt at the thought of his physical hurt.

"I'm sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for, but I am, with all of my heart! You didn't have to tell me, but I want you to know how much it means to me that you did!" I said at 100 miles an hour.

He put his arms around me and returned my hug, which meant more to me than words could possibly describe considering how much it would have hurt him to do so.

"Well I'm sorry it took me so long, but it's only now that I've said it that I've come to terms with it. Thanks for persuading me to, I can finally face it!" he replied throughout quiet sobs.

We held each other and wept for another 5 minutes, without saying a word, just taking in each others comfort and support.

I led him downstairs when he was confident enough to walk, though I was terrified for his safety, but he insisted. He put his arm around my shoulder and held onto my neck, and with his free hand, he clutched the banister for dear life. He cautiously walked down each step. When we reached the bottom of the house I helped him sit comfortably on the sofa and made some tea. I came to the conclusion then that I made tea a lot, probably to solve my minor problems or some other silly reason, but I didn't see any way in which tea could solve this one.

"Charlie?" he asked politely, removing my from my distracting thoughts.

"Yeah?"

He paused.

"Do you have any ideas on how to….you know, um, stop this?"

Oh god. I didn't.

"Eh, no, no I don't. But how about we go see Ed and the Toms? They're all extremely understanding".

"Sounds good, except Ed's staying at his girlfriend Fawn's, and Mr. Bacon is out of the city. Not entirely sure why though…" he trailed off, sounding slightly disappointed at the other two's absence.

Then I remembered why. He and blue-haired Tom had had a Twitter fight over Alex's tactics on how to get Lady Godiva into the charts, and hadn't spoken since.

"Okay then, um, how about Liam?" I asked.

He giggled. It was great to see him happy for those few seconds.

"Liam lives in Edinburgh, which is hours away. Next you'll be suggesting we go visit Michael, or John and Hank".

I laughed loudly. It was like bit by bit, the Alex everyone knew and loved so well was returning.

My phone rung. Lex's number and her face posing in what was called "the duck face" appeared on the screen. I showed Alex and I smiled as he thought the decision through. He signaled for me to pass him the phone by stretching out his hand. I gave him it.

"Hey Lex, do you mind if Charlie and me come over for a bit?"

Like the motherly figure I am, I made sure Alex wrapped up warmly to fight the cold of a London afternoon (1 silly looking t-shirt, 2 hoodies, one of which belonged to me because he's not a fan of owning clothes, and his furry coat with half of the fur missing. And a pair of skinny jeans, obviously, he didn't go outside half naked) and we set off to the bus stop. We were nearly there when it happened.

"Alex, I was wondering….who's the friend you like?"

He stopped walking, shoved his hands in his coat pockets and stared straight ahead with wide, terrified eyes, not looking at me.

"It's fine Alex! You don't have to tell me" I said, trying to re-assure him.

"It's n-not your question Charlie. It's-it's them…" he replied.

I turned around. There was a gang of men approaching, each carrying bottles of alcohol. They noticed us. They all looked very violent. I knew it was the people who had hurt Alex so much. I looked back to Alex, to make sure he was okay. The colour had completely drained from his face and he was shaking.


	4. Chapter 4

As they came closer towards us, they started shouting hurtful comments.

"Oi! Skinny jeans! Who's yer boyfriend?" came from who I assumed the gang leader was.

His followers laughed at the stupid joke, like a pack of hyenas. Charlie came closer towards me, showing me he was willing to protect me. I wanted so hard to be able to reach out and take his hand, but we both knew that would just encourage them to continue the torment.

"We'll just walk right by them, and we can get a train instead, so we won't have to hang around for any longer, the stations not that far" he said to try and calm down my uncontrollable shaking.

If only it was that simple, I'd tried walking by them several times, and look where it got me.

They were nearly right next to us when we attempted to go in the opposite direction, Charlie silently leading the way. Someone smoking a cigarette pushed Charlie backwards, by his shoulders. It felt as though my heart had skipped a beat.

"Where do you think you're going, gay boy?" the guy who pushed him asked.

The name stung us both, knowing it was directed at each of us. He was one of the smallest, but if we fought back his friends would just join in.

"Away from here, if you'd kindly let us pass" Charlie replied, politely enough.

The group exchanged glances and "ohh-ed".

"You're not going anywhere!" the same guy said, stamping out his cigarette.

Charlie gulped and took a few steps backwards, trying to find me, to make this all better for both of us.

One of them grabbed me by the collar, and basically flung me into a nearby brick wall, but without letting go. My feet couldn't touch the ground by a few centimeters, and my head spun. The impact jolted my entire body, and it was hard to breathe. He threw I sickening punch into my stomach, and I grimaced in pain. I could hear a gasp, shouts and sirens in the background, at which point I was let go of. I collapsed to the ground, still quite dizzy. But it wasn't over yet.

They didn't all get away when the police came, only the people that stuck around to hit us some more were arrested. Once I collided with the ground, someone kicked my back, and whilst I lay there defenseless, he attempted to rob me. Luckily, he didn't know I wasn't that keen on owning stuff, and he was the first person to be taken into the police car, handcuffed. A policeman took him away, whilst another helped me to my feet.

"We're taking you and your friend to the hospital to check neither of you have broken anything" he said seriously, in an extremely deep voice.

I nodded.

"Thank you" I said quietly enough it could be classed as a whisper.

He smiled.

"It's my job, now come with me, your friend is desperate to know you're alright".


	5. Chapter 5

As I sat in the back of the ambulance, I couldn't help but fidget with my hands as a minor distraction. I was worried about Alex. I thought back to the memories of only 5 minutes or so ago…

The last I'd saw of him was when he was pushed into a wall, whilst I was dragged away by the hood of my jacket. I was knocked over by two members of the gang, punched and kicked a lot, but I didn't lie and accept it, I knew Alex was in trouble. I grabbed one of their foots, and brought them to the concrete with a thud. Next, I attempted to get up, and in doing so the other man went to help his "colleague". I wasted no time in getting away, I knew they'd be back for more fighting. That's when I heard sirens, and a police car appeared. I ran towards it, waving my arms in the air like a lunatic and shouting. Three policemen shot out of the vehicle, two heading towards me, the other in the direction I guessed Alex would be in. One ran right by me, to chase the group I guessed, but the other came right up to face me. He placed his hand on my shoulder.

"We received a call, not moments ago, from someone in this neighbourhood, about a group attacking two other young people. Assuming you're one of them, where's your friend? And an ambulance should be arriving any minute, knowing gang violence so well we thought you'd be needing one." He quickly said.

"I-uh, yes, yes I guess I'm "one of them", and I don't know where Alex is, please…please help me find him!" I replied urgently, ready to burst into tears.

"We'll find him son, don't you worry. Are you hurt?"

"No, no I'm fine, but I don't think Alex is, they've hurt him several times before, and I need to know he's okay!" I blurted out.

The policeman looked stunned.

"Specifically to him, you say? How many times has this happened, and were you with him on any of these occasions?"

"No, I wasn't, I just discovered people had been hurting him this morning and he's been coming home beat up for months, and was to afraid to tell me and we were going to a friends for advice on how to stop it happening, but the group were there on the way to the bus stop and we didn't know what else to do!" I spewed out the words, properly crying now, but he heard me clearly enough.

"What's your name?"  
"Charlie, Charlie McDonnell. And my friends name is Alex Day" I replied.

"Well Mr. McDonnell, we have enough evidence to get the gang in prison, I'd say. I can tell you right now, I can swear, this will NOT happen again," he said, surprisingly re-assuring me "that's the ambulance here, go ahead and wait inside, I'll go fetch your friend".

I nodded and slumped away, feeling useless and like a big child. And now here I was, sitting in the back of an empty ambulance, waiting for Alex's arrival.

None of it felt real, like it had all been a nightmare, but I knew it wasn't. I noticed I was breathing very heavily and tears were still streaming down my cheeks, either running down my neck or landing on my legs. Where were they? Had something bad happened to both them that I had been unaware of? The simple thought of it was enough to get me on my feet, it would be easy enough to leave, the single paramedic who'd been driving the vehicle left to find and help Alex, knowing his injuries would be worse than mines after I'd explained what had happened. I was about to open the doors and exit, when they opened without my assistance. There stood Alex with a giant beam on his face, despite all of the bruises and blood that was all over his body, and most noticeably his face. I spread out my arms and he flew into them. I never wanted to let go. I wanted to hold him next to me, with his poor, hurt face resting on my shoulder forever. Our embrace was interrupted by the kind policeman. He told us it was time to take a trip to the hospital. We held hands for the entire journey and laughed, though no jokes were told and I felt almost nothing but sadness. No, that was a lie. I also felt hope.


	6. Chapter 6

What hurt more than anything, more than the total destruction of my body, more than the confidence knock downs, more than any of the hurtful names, was the fact that Charlie was just as involved in it all as I was. I considered a lot of things in my time on the stiff hospital mattress, staring at a tiled ceiling, but that was mainly all I thought about. They wouldn't let him see me, no matter how much I protested and threatened, saying that it would be better for the both of us once I'd had a full recovery to be in each other's company. Hunger strikes and refusal to let anyone stick a needle full of drugs inside me wouldn't convince them, all it did was encourage them to try and convince me that I'd see him once my health had risen dramatically, however long it took. They told me that he wouldn't leave, though he protested politely using kind words, unlike my constant swearing and shrugging anyone away that wasn't him. That he spent all of his time waiting outside of the locked room, just hoping to catch a glimpse of me when the heavy door or the thin curtains were opened for a few seconds. I let them nurse me, let them do their job after a week or so of unbearable torture from the shortage of morphine, swallowing down my pride as revengeful nurses and doctors enjoyed seeing how much I detested every second of the next few days. It was all worth it though, when he draw back the blue sheet of a curtain and saw me helplessly lying there, clutching the side of the bed with an agonizing pain in my side. He grinned as I released it and started at him, my breath taken away. He ran to my side and I giggled for the first time in weeks, perhaps months. He took my hand, and I noticed he was silently crying and that his eyes had dark circles surrounding them. I raised my free hand with difficulty, and I wiped them away with shaky fingers. We didn't speak, just sat there, laughing and smiling at each other, forgetting everything that we'd been through.

I was allowed to go home the next day, and he was granted permission to stay in the same room as me for the night. Neither of us got much sleep in that hospital room, but when either of us drifted away for half an hour or so, we'd wake up to find the other beside them, watching over. We got a taxi back, and as soon as we got home we collapsed onto the familiar sofa in the living room, immediately falling asleep in each other's arms. When I awoke a good few hours later, he was still in another world. I wondered what he was dreaming about, and I hoped they were nothing like my regular ones, full of pain and torment, so realistic it was hard to believe they were nightmares. I slowly released myself, being extremely careful not to wake him, and wandered with caution upstairs. I examined myself in my bedroom mirror, seeing purples and blacks and blues blended together on my skin. I prodded some bones that were said to be broken, and flinched. I sighed, pulled my shirt back down, and turned around to find him standing at the door and sadly frowning. My lips intimidated his.

"You weren't supposed to see that" I assured.

He walked inside and placed his icy cool hand on my arm, just above my elbow, moving his fingers gently. It felt great. He looked down at my chest and I shut my eyes, heavily breathing.

"They told me what had been hurt, but I didn't think it would be as bad as that" he responded, and sighed.

I bit my lip, and leaned in closer, my arms lazily lying at my sides as he wrapped his carefully around my waist. I lay my head on him, and he rested his on mines. I couldn't bear to cry, not now, so I didn't make a noise while he tried to reassure me that I'd be okay, that everything would be back to normal soon, that we'd all be happy again. I tried so, so hard to believe him.


	7. Chapter 7

After about a week or so, I knew that his nightmares would have to stop. He woke up each night, and after naps throughout the day, screaming and in tears. It still hurt him to walk or raise his arm for too long, so the sobs that racked his body wouldn't have helped much with his physical recovery either. He didn't let me stay with him when he went to sleep, he demanded that I leave the room whilst he dreamt. I wanted to know why, but he wouldn't tell me, so to make him happy I did as he asked, because he refused to even shut his eyes, with the exception of blinking, if I was even in the same room. He was terrified of them, and it usually took about ten minutes or so to calm him down. He was always embarrassed afterwards, the red colour in his cheeks giving it away, and his endless apologizes. The bruises were beginning to fade, and he said the pain wasn't as bad as it had been when he first got home, but the lack of drugs had brought him back to reality far too soon, and it'd come along with the bad dreams too. He didn't tell me what they were about, but it wasn't hard to imagine; running into the people that had made him like this. Sometimes, I thought that I was there too, because he'd shout my name and manage to get out of bed to make sure I was okay, and once again, that would have hurt lots to do that on his own. I still don't know how he managed to leave me without waking me up on the first day back home, the pain must have been unbearable. But the point is, the things that he saw, when he was in a different world where I could do nothing to protect him, those had to stop. I just had no idea how to make them.

"Are you tired?" I asked, expecting no response like usual. His head was lying in my lap, and he was staring blankly up at the ceiling. My back was against the wall behind us, so I looked down at him and waited, but my expectations were met.

"Alex, c'mon, are you tired? Do you want to go to sleep?" I repeated myself, hoping that this time he'd actually give me a reasonable answer, or at least respond in some way. I worried about him when he was like this, in some sort of daydream, or trying to forget what had happened, whatever he was doing when he stared into space and barely moved and tried to ignore me. It scared me, and he knew it, but he didn't stop. He never stopped, so I was scared all of the time.

"Yes, but I don't want to. I don't want you to leave me and go, but you'd have to if I sleep. I don't want to see what I watch over and over again, inside of my head when I do" he explained, his voice making him sound incredibly bored and annoyed, as if I'd made him tell me something I already knew, which to be honest, he had. Just not what he saw. He still wasn't looking at me, only what was above us. The ceiling never seemed to bore him. I'd of been sick of the sight of it by then.

"And what's that then? What's the scary thing that you see?" I asked. It was worth a shot.

"Nothing." He said a few seconds later, in the same tone of voice.

"Yes, obviously" I muttered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"That you wake up screaming and in tears at nothing, and you're not scared of whatever you see. Obviously. How stupid of me to think that there was something."

He closed his eyes and frowned, another technique of his that I was becoming used to, whenever he wanted to block me out, couldn't be bothered to argue, this was what he did. I sighed, regretting what I'd said.

"Alex, I'm sorry, but you've got to tell me sooner or later."

"Tell you what?"

"Stop avoiding it and pretending you don't know what I'm talking about."

"Tell you what?" he repeated.

"You're acting like a child. Stop it."

"Tell. You. What?"

"_ALEX!_"

And then he stopped talking to me for the rest of the night, until an hour or so later, he asked me to leave the room. He didn't apologize or even speak when I ran in later on, to comfort him from his second reality.


	8. Chapter 8

I don't look him in the eye when he comes back into my bedroom, and I try not to resist the temptation of responding to his kind words. He reassures me things will be alright, as always, but I know that they won't be. Not really. I think that he knows it too, but he either won't admit it himself, or's hiding the truth from me, even though I already know it. As soon as I'm 'okay' again, I pull back from him, pushing him away and pulling myself out of his arms. He looks hurt at my gesture, and I feel bad, of course I do, but it's for the best. I don't want him to think I'm clingy. Besides, I can't rely on him forever. I don't want him to leave me, but he'll realize eventually that I'm just some selfish friend in love with him. That's when he's going to run. Run as fast as his legs will carry him. I know I would, I'm too much of a horrible person to say that I'd stay. _'Charlie isn't like you though', _a voice at the back of my head reminds me. And I guess that he's not.

I clear my throat and he looks down at his feet. His arms are crossed and his hands are gripping his upper arms, so he looks like he's hugging himself to replace what I just ended.

"I-I'm sorry," I apologize quietly, for possibly hurting his feelings and waking him up in the middle of the night. I'm so selfish. I want them to stop, but only because of him, that's the only good enough reason. I'm still embarrassed about him having to run around after me, like I'm some sort of helpless child, which I suppose I kind of am at this point.

He shakes his head, still looking down at the floor, and he smiles slightly. I'm glad he's not looking at me. He can't catch secret, concerned glances at me, ones he thinks I don't see. He doesn't say anything, and I'm desperate to fill the silence, but I can't think of anything to say. The words wouldn't even come out even if I could, my throat's tightened, and it hurts to breathe again, like when I first woke up. I refuse to let myself gasp for air, he'd notice, so instead I take the deepest ones I can, and continue to try and think of a conversation starter.

"You want me to leave, don't you?" he asks me suddenly, and then I don't know how to answer his simple question. How am I supposed to explain that all I want is for my unrequited love to be requited, to hold him close, and for us to be happy, but at the same time I want to be a million and one miles away from him, because he could do so much better. He deserves so much better.

Eventually, I slowly nod my head, glaring at my sheets because I'm ashamed that I'm hurting his feelings in the process of trying to protect him. I can't win either way.

"Okay. Try to get some sleep." he says, and walks out of the room, without looking back. I sink my teeth into my bottom lip, and I cry.

I cry because I'm pathetic, and there's nothing else to do. Nothing else I can do. Except, maybe one thing...if I can get up and travel to the kitchen, then the bathroom. Is it stupid to inflict even more damage on myself, when all Charlie seems to want is my physical recovery? Probably, yes, but would it make me feel better?

I've already made my decision, my stupid, selfish decision, and a few minutes later, I'm heading downstairs. I can hear Charlie snoring from the floor above me. I smile and rub my eyes, thinking that if that was painful, listening to the signs that he's sleeping, then just wait until I get my hands on something sharp, and metal. I may be acting and treated like a child, but I'm old enough to know where the knives are kept.


	9. Chapter 9

I wasn't even awake to stop him. I wasn't there to protect him. Again. This time, it was from himself.

I'd been asleep for a few hours and I woke up naturally. Ever since Alex got back, his cries had done that for me. The first thing that came to mind was just how weird that was. Was something wrong?

I wasn't in any hurry to check up on him, because I thought that he'd be sleeping, what else would he be doing otherwise? It was only when I got to his bedroom, and it was empty, that worry and panic took me over. He rarely left his bedroom, I'd always be the one to get things for him. Even when he did, he'd always sheepishly ask for some help.

I got downstairs quickly, but not fast enough for my liking. My hand rested on the bathroom's door handle. The kitchen was empty, and the cutlery drawer was wide open. It wasn't hard to imagine where he was, and what he'd taken in with him. I braced myself, then I opened the door slowly. From then, everything sort of merges together.

For starters, there was blood. Lots of it. It smelled like copper, and it was so strong there was a metallic taste in my mouth. I had to cover it and pinch my nose with my clammy hand to stop myself from screaming out in shock. It covered the sink, an otherwise white towel, and an area of the floor beside him. He was just lying there, his eyes closed. His arms were covered with cuts. He looked lifeless, but there was still some left in him. His chest was still moving up and down. A small knife was in his hand.

From then on, I can't remember much. I must have phoned an ambulance next, because it couldn't have come on its own. I faintly remember the paramedics, not long later, taking him out of my arms, and my clothes being stained in the red liquid escaping from his wounds. I didn't come with them, and no one tried to talk me into it. They rushed him away, and whilst he was wheeled out of our house, he took a part of me with him.

I felt numb. There was nothing but that. A numbness that spread from my chest, to my arms, to my legs, to my head, to everywhere. I didn't know what to feel, or if I was even capable of it if I wanted to. I failed to stand up a few times, always crashing back down, so I gave up and looked around the bathroom for a few more hours. He'd left the knife behind. Tears refused to come, though I wanted them to. I wanted to feel _something, _but I couldn't_. _It was as if there was nothing there to even try and start feeling something again.


	10. Chapter 10

He didn't come with me in the ambulance and I didn't blame him. He shouldn't of had to, I'd hurt him again. I couldn't learn from my mistakes, could I? I could have made it easier for both of us, and ignored the thoughts, but I didn't, and I can't even say that I'm sorry. Yes, I'm sorry for putting Charlie through god knows what, of course I am, but to say that I regret doing it to myself at all...it would be a lie. I haven't seen him since lying in his arms on the bathroom floor. I must have been a wreck. I must have turned him into one, too.

The doctors and the nurses had lost all sympathy for me since last time, except for one, who smiled at me whenever no one else was looking. Her name was Carrie, from how everyone surrounding my bed addresses her, and she has curly, blonde hair. They look angry with me, when they look down at see the damage I've caused. Some seem disgusted. It's only my second trip, and more than half of the hospital hates me, though the first time was over something I couldn't really control. The first time, Charlie was with me. That nurse's smiles were literally the only reason I was getting through this without him, and she'd never even spoken a word to me directly. I couldn't even force myself to smile back at her.

I wondered where he was, and what he was doing. I thought about what he'd be thinking of at that exact moment, and if he was worried about me at all. I didn't want him to be, but at the same time, I did. I wanted him to show me just how much he was.

Was he happier without me?

Of course he was. Like he should be. If I was gone, then nobody would have any more reason to be upset. I was going to make sure of it, as soon as I got the chance. As soon as I left the all too familiar walls of the hospital room behind. Smiles from a stranger weren't going to stop me.


	11. Chapter 11

I miss Alex. I miss him. I miss him so much that it's starting to hurt again. _I. Miss. Him._

"I miss you," I whispered out loud into the silence, because the house was empty except for me, and everything he left behind.

"Come back home. Please. Please, just-" I failed in holding back a cry, "-Just come back. Alex, I mi-miss you. I need you, _please."_

Pleading with myself wasn't working and I knew that it was hopeless. I knew that I was hopeless. I knew that we were hopeless, that a chance of anything more would never come out of this, especially at this point in our lives. A chance of a romantic relationship was hopeless, but I wasn't ready to admit that he was, too.

The bus trip to the hospital was one of the longest, most pain enduring things I've ever had to sit through. I was a mess. Fellow Londoners could easily see it, and I could tell from the way that they were looking at me. I hadn't bothered to look in the mirror before I left the house, but I had at least showered and changed out of the bloodied clothes. _Why didn't you go with him when you had the chance? Then you'd know for sure that he was at least still breathing. _

I leaned my head against the bus's dirty window, my cheek cooling instantly against the cold glass, and I closed my eyes. My stop was only 5 minutes away. I could do this. I could do this without crying.

But I didn't.

By the time I reached the hospital once more, a few staff members recognised me. They knew why I was there. They led me to his room in silence, but one of the three, a pretty nurse with curly blonde hair and a genuinely sympathetic smile, she put her hand on my shoulder and whispered something I could barely hear. I think it was supposed to be nice, whatever she said. It didn't help me feel any better, but it was the thought that counts, I guess.

They stopped when we reached the doorway. They let me go inside by myself.

I wasn't prepared for what I saw.

I'd never seen him look so devastated. He was covered in self-inflicted cuts and the previous bruised markings still decorated his skin. It looked like he was struggling to breathe. His eyes were filled with tears. He didn't look at me, he just whispered my name weakly, as if he didn't believe I was really there.

I responded with a chocked sob and ran to his bedside to hold his hand as softly as I could. I knew it hurt him to squeeze mines, but he did it anyway, tears running down his face. I was becoming far too used to watching him cry. We both shed tears and told each other how much we loved each other. He told me he wanted to come home. I told him he couldn't. At least, not yet. It was too early. He cried some more and begged me to stay with him until he could. I didn't refuse or protest. I didn't say another word. I'd stopped crying a while ago, unlike him. Everything was going to be okay now.


	12. Chapter 12

They made us-no-they made me wait so long in there. In that same room. With the stupid all too familiar bed, and the same stupid sheets, and the beeping machines and Charlie occasionally crying at the bedside. He told me, when they finally let me go, that it hadn't been that long. A couple of days. I know that you're supposed to trust your best friend, but I couldn't believe that, it felt like he was telling me a pathetic lie. Maybe I resented it so much because of the way it felt matched so perfectly with my life. I was living a pathetic lie.

'I'm okay'.

'No, you don't have to stay, I want to be alone'.

'I'm just tired'.

The worst part of it was that he believed me. At least, I think he did. He did as I asked and never questioned what I said. I honestly thought he was scared of me, or what I was capable of doing to myself. To him. But he still looked out for me. In fact, that's all he did. He never left my side, and if he had to, he'd be as close by as possible. He waited outside the bathroom door. He made sure I got to bed alright, if I'd asked him if I could be alone that night, and even then he took the spare room next to mines. He watched me eat, and what I ate, suspicious of the damage the cutlery in my hands could do. He always offered to make my food and drinks. I knew that he was scared of me trying to burn myself with the kettle or the oven, or use another knife like before. It was ridiculous.

We'd gone through about a week of trying to stay sane in each other's company. We ignored phone calls and knocks on the front door and he looked after me, if I let him. Towards the end of it, we were running low on food, (Not that I wanted to eat anyway, I'd forget if Charlie didn't place it directly in front of me and encourage me to clear the plate), and he decided that he couldn't leave me to my own devices.

He lent me his hoodie, to cover up my arms. My old one had gotten too blood stained to be worn again, and it was too painful a memory to wear even if it looked brand new. It was soft, and it smelled like him. I wrapped my stupid arms around myself when he was putting on his shoes, a rare opportunity when he wasn't worrying too much about me, and it felt like one of his hugs.

I smiled weakly at him and leaned against him for support as we walked to the nearest shop. I'd forgotten just how terrifying the real world was, huddling closer into his side as I took cautious steps towards our destination. This time neither of us were scared about what could happen when he took my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

His little smile was the most reassuring thing I'd seen in months.

"You'll be okay."

I believed him.

Until I got bad again.


End file.
